


Permit to Destroy

by drvestadee



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Depression, Drunken Confessions, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Hate to Love, Kidnapping, Mean Spencer Reid, No Spoilers, Sad Spencer Reid, Sex, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25121551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drvestadee/pseuds/drvestadee
Summary: Spencer Reid hates people who aren't easy to catch. Correction- Spencer Reid hates Alaska Lee. He would never admit this out loud, but something about the new supposed unsub makes him unexplainably angry. The BAU team have been trying to catch Alaska for months with no avail, but when they finally find her, they question if she is the mastermind behind all of the deaths occurring with her name attached to them.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	1. Trails Leading Nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> There are no spoilers and the actions that take place in this book aren't based on any of the episodes. ilysm and thanks for reading! <33

Spencer Reid’s POV

Why is this case so hard for us? Usually we’d have the unsub in our hands only days after discovering their victims, but this case is different. The file I hold in my hands confuses me the more I read it. Alaska Lee, 20- year-old female born in New York City, her two parents, Rose and Wilton, killed in a house fire in which she was the only survivor. She was put into foster care and remained there until eventually becoming an emancipated teenager at sixteen. She is now a waitress at a local caf é and lives alone in a tiny apartment in NYC. So why is she connected to the string of murders in Brooklyn? 

It makes no sense, the MO doesn’t correspond with the data we’ve compiled on Alaska Lee, yet her DNA is found on all of the victims bodies. Her victims are children, young and innocent children who didn’t deserve the violent death they were given because of Lee. She does this weird thing where she writes a single letter behind the ear of all her victims where so far we only have “I- R-E.” We’ve been trying to locate Alaska for the past month with no luck and my hatred towards her is increasing with every minute she’s not in handcuffs. I look at her ID photo and stare into her deep green eyes wondering who this girl  _ really  _ was. I pictured myself pointing a gun to her head smiling to myself, then quickly threw the file back down on my desk.

“You good Spence?” Morgan questions as he walks through the elevator doors into the BAU’s floor. 

I look up and realize the office is empty and that it’s early morning. I can admit that I’ve become quite obsessed with this case and receive very little sleep because of it.

“Yeah it’s just this case is so infuriating,” I reply as I read over her file once more.

“Tell me about it,” Morgan replies with a defeated look. He comes closer to my desk and takes the file from my hands.

“Come on, it's time to take a break smart boy.” He takes a closer look at my tired eyes, messy hair, and my numerous empty cups that were once filled with coffee. “When was the last time you went home and had a good night's sleep anyways?” He questions.

“I couldn’t even tell you,” I respond getting up from my chair and heading towards the elevator with Morgan. 

I drove home where I now lay thinking about Alaska Lee, picturing her green eyes I’ve seen too many times and how I want to feel her taking her last breath. All of my anger is stemming from something greater than Alaska, I think to myself. I may be confused, but I’m still a profiler and I know that this case isn’t causing my loneliness, grief, and utter sadness. I look over to my nightstand where I keep my gun and think about how much easier my life would be if I didn’t exist. I feel my chest sink as a tear rolls down my cheek and I turn to lay facing away from the gun, too cowardly to put it to use. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sry this chapter is short it's kind of a test run and I WILL be making the chapters longer from now on so enjoy! <333


	2. Emotionless

Alaska Lee’s POV

I LOVE ROAD TRIPS! My best friend Christopher and I have been traveling the US in a small RV we bought about a month ago and it has been the most fun I’ve had in years. 

Right now we’re in Indiana, but we’re on our way to California where hopefully I’ll meet Harry Styles, the love of my life. 

“Chris your phone is ringing  _ again, _ ” I say to him through the window of the RV as he smokes a cigarette outside. He turns towards the RV and looks a little bit scared for a second. I brush off his sudden expression of nervousness and go on talking about how smoking can kill him and how gross it is. 

Chris and I first met when I was 8 and he was 10 in foster care where we would play pranks on the adults and the other foster kids. We would frequently run away and had the police called on us multiple times for doing this. You can say that we were bad kids; come to think of it, we still kind of are rebels in our own messed up way. 

I mean we saved up an insane amount of money and quit our jobs to go on this road trip across the United States. I didn’t want to at first, but Chris convinced me to go on this trip with him to “start a new life” as he always likes to say. 

My old life wasn’t the best; I’ve been caught up in the law for a few minor things like graffiti, theft, and loitering, but nothing too major. Not to mention the countless years I spent in foster care after my parents died in a house fire when I was seven. I don’t remember much about my parents, but maybe it’s better off that way. 

My thoughts are disrupted by Chris’ phone loudly ringing once more. Not surprisingly, he ignores it again and so do I. 

As I watch Chris throw the rest of his cigarette on the floor and step on it to put the light out, I think about how all of the mischief we got into as kids helped me get through the horrible parts of foster care. He’s always had my back and I’ve always had his, but lately he’s been acting strange. 

Maybe it’s because we up and left our lives just a short month ago, but I’ve never seen him so disconnected and scared before. He smokes more than he ever has, and his phone won’t stop ringing. He’s almost always never in the hotel rooms we stay at and he even made this word rule that we can’t stay in a single state for more than three days. 

But Chris has always been a strange kid so I pushed my thoughts to the back of my mind as I take a look at the blue sky scattered with white clouds and singing birds. 

Chris hurriedly opens his door and jumps into the driver's seat, his hands nervously fiddling with the keys until he finally manages to turn the ignition on. “Shit shit shit shit Alaska we gotta go,” is all he says before he puts the RV into reverse and speeds off down the interstate. 

My face is full of confusion as I look at my best friend in disbelief. 

“Chris what’s wrong?” I question.

“Nothing Alaska, I just- I just didn’t like that parking lot,” he says with sweat dripping down his temple.

I just look at him with disbelief as he speeds off at a scary 90 miles per hour. Only seconds pass by before we see a black van get right behind us, prompting us to pull over.

“Chris, what the fuck is going on?” I ask.

He looks over to me and says, “I’m sorry Alaska.”

I’m beyond confused as Chris pulls over to the side of the highway and rolls down his window breathing in and out faster and faster. 

He looks down at his closed fist, closes his eyes, and then punches himself in the face leaving a trail of blood to roll down his cheek. 

“Alaska I love you but I can’t get caught right now. I will help you get out, trust in that.”

“Chris, what’s going on?” I question calmly. 

A tall man with dark hair walks over to the window and we both hear Chris start shouting, “Help me please! She kidnapped me, she took me, it’s Alaska Lee, it’s Alaska Lee!”

The tall man wearing an FBI uniform pulls his gun out and asks me if I have any weapons on me as another female FBI agent approaches the car to help Christopher get out. 

“I- I don’t, no I don’t have any weapons on me. What’s going-”

“Step out of the vehicle,” he commands swiftly as I remain in the RV, too shocked to understand what he even just said to me. 

Just then, I see another man get out of the black van behind us with so much anger in his expression, and I’ve seen a lot of angry people in my day. My group home’s caregiver, Nancy Calligan, for example, was the most ruthless and evil person I’ve ever met. 

His eyes reminded me of hers.

Looking back over to the agent, I notice that he’s a tall lanky man with long messy brown hair and big brown eyes. Our eyes meet through the side mirror and I notice the pure fury in his newly darkened pupils.

“He said get out of the vehicle,” Angry says to me.

I take a deep breath and I open the door putting my hands up in defeat.

“Get on your knees,” Angry says through gritted teeth and crossed brows. 

I do as he says and instead of wearing the expression of fear, I hold no expression at all. 

That is something that foster care taught me well. Have no emotions and no one will bother you. Nancy always told us that if we ever wanted to get adopted we couldn’t cry, laugh, get nervous, or excited, we just had to put on a smile. And that’s what I’ve been doing for my entire life. 

I don’t really remember the last time I truly felt something, and maybe I never will. Some people may call me a sociopath because when bad things happen, I tend to not react in the way that they would expect me to.

I just simply don’t feel. 

“You’re not scared?” The older dark haired man says to me.

I look up at him and look back down at the pavement, not being one to talk, never have been. 

“Well you should be,” says Angry. 

My eyes are emotionless and I feel so done with everything. With life, with Chris, with my future, with my past, and definitely with these FBI agents. I’ve had my fair share of encounters with the law and I’m anything but respectful when it comes to cops. 

“Ahhhh so scary,” I retort sarcastically not knowing why we got pulled over in the first place.

“You think that killing innocent children is funny?” The older agent asks.

“Killing children? What are you guys talking about?” I question genuinely.

“She sounds like she honestly doesn’t know what we’re talking about,” says the female FBI agent with black hair. 

“Well she’s a good liar,” says the young angry one.

I stay silent as the older agent puts me in handcuffs and lifts me off of the ground of the highway, violently ushering me towards their black van. I let out no sign of emotions and remained staring coldly at the floor of the car.

“Where are we taking her?” Asks the female agent.

“Quantico,” replies the youngest agent with anger flowing through his words.

“What?! Reid are you crazy? We’re in Indiana and not to mention that we don’t question suspects in our office,” says the older man with dark hair. 

So his name is Reid? I’ll just stick to Angry.

“Which is exactly a 10 hour and 8 minute drive. I want to question her myself,” he replies coldly.

The older man and the female agents give each other an understanding look and drive towards Quantico. 

I wonder if the second van that took Christopher is going there too? What did he do? Did he kill these kids and pin it on me? Even when we were kids, Chris would always place the blame on me for any trouble he got into. 

Thinking back to my childhood made me shudder a bit, Angry taking notice of this action softens his expression a bit. 

My long light brown hair clouding my face and my hands being cuffed behind my back made for an uncomfortable ride to Quantico. Halfway through the car ride, I laid my head on the window and began drifting to sleep. 

“Get up,” yelled Angry as he shoved me harshly.

“Okay Angry I’m up,” I said with a slightly raspy voice and tired eyes.

He took note of the little nickname I gave him with a small evil grin forming on his plump lips. I quickly looked down at his lips and just as quickly looked back down at my feet as I stood up to get out of the van.

I felt him staring at me as the other agents not-so-gently guided me towards the Quantico building. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS!! Thanks for reading the second chapter of Permit to Destroy <333 Just letting you know that there's some build up before we get to the juicy stuff but don't worry, it's coming ;)))


	3. Protection

Spencer Reid’s POV

I watch Alaska get dragged away in handcuffs and I can’t help but smile.

I ruffle my messy hair and take slow breaths, preparing to question her for as long as it takes because I know that I will find justice for these kids.

As I begin to walk into the Quantico building following Hotch and Emily, my phone rings and I answer immediately. 

“Reid,” I say into the phone.

“Two more bodies were found matching the MO of Lee,” says Morgan regretfully.

I fall silent, biting my bottom lip and closing my eyes, but quickly compose myself. 

“Although she didn’t commit these murders, she may well be involved in them somehow. What were the letters behind their ears?” I question.

“N and A, I have no idea what “Irena” means. Is it Lee’s mother’s name?” Morgan asks.

“No, it’s the name of the recently discovered star HD 146389 that is also known as WASP-38. It is the yellow-white main sequence star in the constellation of Hercules,” I state matter-of-factly. 

“Oh, well in that case, what does Alaska have to do with this star?” Morgan asks.

“I’m about to find out,” I reply with anger entering my bloodstream as I march towards the entrance. 

I walk into the makeshift interrogation room that is Hotch’s office where the stone-like girl sits.

She looks unbothered almost, with no visible expression on her face. Usually, it would be easy for me to read people based on their emotions, actions, and ticks. But this girl, this girl was different. 

She didn’t make eye-contact with me as I sat down across from her, Hotch’s desk being the only separation between the two of us. 

“So Irena, you finally got caught,” I say with confidence.

She looks down at her hands, still holding no emotions as she replies, “My name isn’t Irena.”

I look at JJ through the window in the office, her listening to the entire conversation through the recorder set on the desk before the interrogation began. She also seems confused about her genuine confusion regarding the message that was left for us on the bodies of the children.

“So the word “Irena” doesn’t mean anything to you?” I ask the suspect before me.

She finally makes eye contact with me and for a quick second I’m left breathless. 

Her eyes glowed a brighter green than I thought they had been before, and her facial features became more prominent in the light of the room. 

Her cheeks were flushed and lightly scattered with almost unnoticeable freckles. Her lips were full and free of lipstick yet almost red in color. 

She glared at me through her long eyelashes, her wavy brown hair engulfing her small frame.

I had saved her features deep into my memory, which is something I haven’t done in years. I didn’t do it purposely, and I wish I could shake this murderer's image from my mind. 

“No, that word means nothing to me. Why am I here?” She questions and for the first time, I believe her confusion. 

I look over at JJ to confirm my beliefs and she nods, mouthing the words, “She’s not lying.”

“If you didn’t kill those children, why did we find traces of your DNA all over them?’ I ask her.

She widens her eyes a bit, the first time I’m seeing her hold any meaningful emotion.

“It all makes sense,” she says almost inaudibly. 

“Me and Christopher would always make RV stops at night to look up at the stars. He said I reminded him of this one star that was recently discovered,” she says under her breath but loud enough so that I can hear, and it all clicks in an instant. 

I look up at the green eyed girl in front of me and wonder why she was put in the middle of this mess. Her eyes stay glued to her hands on her lap, her wavy hair covering her face.

It was Christopher Ramos.

I quickly get up and exit the office, leaving JJ to watch over Lee as I go to track down the bastard that killed all of those kids.

The local police officers and I raided his hotel room nearby and he was put in jail waiting to be questioned by Hotch. 

Not too long after Ramos was put into police custody, I entered the office containing the star herself.

“So Irena huh, I think I like that name,” I say truthfully.

“That’s not my name,” she codly snaps back.

“She’s a feisty one,” Morgan chips in, entering the office .

Garcia suddenly enters the room with files in her hand, “I like her,” she exclaims.

“Hey, we still don’t know if she could’ve been involved in this case,” I say looking at the disheveled girl in front of me. 

She wants us to think that she feels no emotion, but in this moment I can see right through her. She’s scared. In that moment, I feel the need to protect this woman, which is something I’ve never felt for anyone on this Earth.

What is wrong with me?

“I’m going to get her a hotel room to stay at while we figure all of this out,” I say to Morgan as he nods in response.

“Come on Irena, time to go,” I say to her while walking out of the office door hoping she would soon follow behind.

“That’s not. My name,” she says through her straight gritted teeth. She looks up at me and again, I am taken aback by her beautiful features.

I have never seen someone look so innocent yet feel so angered by. She has been the face to this case for over a month and not even her charming looks and her ocean of green eyes can distract me from the fact that she may not be as innocent as she looks. 

I don’t know what to believe or what to even think at this point, but all that keeps popping up in my mind is her perfect face under the gleaming office lights and how I wish she was easy to forget. 


End file.
